Do The Twist
by The Very Last Valkyrie
Summary: "Again." They're going to break through the wall, the floor, they're going to set the room on fire. Based on the season six promo.
1. Do The Twist

**Do The Twist**

Back room at the Oak Room –

Just like this.

Above the casino in Monte Carlo –

Just like that.

This, that, twist, shout.

He doesn't need to take his clothes off, they're something to grab, tear, twist. She likes the feel of the finest on the skin where they touch. She doesn't need him naked, she needs him on her, in her (_hard_). The headboard slaps the wall for the first time that night as she locks her ankles together, grinds her heels into his backside, twists the back of his collar, chokes him. He sucks air straight out of her mouth and she sucks on his tongue, drawing his taste down her throat. It goes down sweetly, like they've gone down before (_hard_).

Hands on her thighs, hands on her waist, one hand lifting the tattered black remains of her body so they slam together (_oh yes_, _oh my God_, _oh my God_). Her hipbones shudder and she opens up and closes at the same time, gripping like she's gripping his hair, holding him (_hard_) so coming in is coming home and pulling out is cold and shocking and that warm, familiar grasp is where he's supposed to be, what's supposed to drown him. Her contours are as familiar to him as the contours of a map, Central Park, Fifth Avenue, Park Avenue, the isle of Manhattan.

Heads turn this way, that way, lips everywhere, teeth everywhere, stinging kisses and soothing bites with no intention of drawing blood. He knows it's real because he tastes her sweat, salty, hears her purr at the first innings. He feels her twist.

Harming and healing, pressed so close they can feel their heartbeat, only the one (_hard_), no more than one needed for two. They'll fry together when the bed catches fire, when it hits the wall one final time and they smash through it, when they fall through the floor. They're going to die anyway, and one time alone isn't going to be enough. He'll roll off her and straight back on again, her legs will collapse and shake and determinedly wrap around him again, kicking at his spine, breaking his back, twisting his insides when she grapples with him, takes hold, twists (_hard_). Her hair is aflame, her body is white. She shudders all over. He sees nothing as he pours out everything, heart, soul (_fuck_, _yes_,_ yes_) in one inferno that scorches her within and brands her without.

In the back of the limo –

Just like this.

Above the casino in Monte Carlo –

Just like that.

This, that, twist, shout.

Chuck pushes back her hair with shaking fingers and Blair, the consummate liar, lies limp and still but drinks down his tongue, tightens her grip and demands _again_, a reckless drinker with an overflowing glass and the twist, love, running down her throat, flooding their veins, the twist that's supposed to drown them.

_Fin._


	2. Let's Twist Again

**_I got a request for a second chapter based on the CW's extended promo - think of this not as the same scene recut, but as round two of twisting.  
Enjoy._**

* * *

**Let's Twist Again**

They get off on this: winning, taking down, going down.

Her heart's beating between her thighs now.

They got off on this, once upon a time in New York: cheating the house, not paying up but being paid off. They're success stories who don't deserve to be given the time of day. They're dirty rotten liars.

Heart between her thighs, heart on the cards, diamonds, diamonds, diamonds, flush.

Curious how her clothes come off with one searing look, how she doesn't remember where they fall. There are chips digging into her spine and he's showering her with victory before even removing his jacket. She's braced, knees up, hands off – for now. She wants to watch the perfection of him coming towards and sinking into her, breast to chest, kissing, mouth, cheek, throat. He prowls like a panther along her outside, but she needs to feel his triumph on the inside.

King beats queen beats world.

He thrives in that position, the place where he is now. She was on top but can't be, must be held, must be wrapped up and tortured and pushed beyond a poker face she can no longer keep up. This, he could keep up for her, finding places to torment with his teeth as her head thrashes from side to side and she pulses all the way down to the bone. It's the slow building burn as his heart, his club finds friction and uses it to wring her out.

Diamonds, diamonds, diamonds.

Wet, wet, wet.

Their muscles work together in well-practised harmony: it's how they know knaves and whores may come and go, but diamonds and spades are forever. They're too ready, too ready to explode outwards and end up over the walls, the floor, each other. He's nothing more than the winning number clenched inside her fist, growing tighter and tighter as his heart forces out beats and the wheel spins faster in this game of roulette, Russian roulette since they're both going to die any second, damn the rules, fuck the rules, fuck the living daylights out of – red, her lips, black, her eyes. Red black the polish on neatly painted toenails on neatly boned toes curling in on themselves until they cramp and crack.

The world is softer, afterwards, and saner. He rolls onto his back and her ribs swell and a small fortune rolls onto the floor. It's all sticky like the stickiness of their fingers, fingers which grab and take and do not ask. She did not ask to be taken, except with her tongue, writing assent on the roof of his mouth, and her hands, stroking his face, shaping his cheekbones, and the words she said out loud. She did not ask, technically, and he took her. She took him, all the way to the hilt of the sword, staving off loneliness, starving for pleasure, cupping the site of his true heart and trying to reach through and touch it as coins bounce and buck with the motion of the bed.

"Do –" Chuck is only just off her, only just in his right mind.

"That –" She pants, pale beauty, icy hot bitch.

"Again." He accedes.

Blair's cry, her own sweet victory, sounds like the trumpet voluntary.

_Fin._


End file.
